


Wake-Up Call

by subtropicalStenella



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, CAN'T BE UNSEEN, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Everything is awful, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Morning Sex, Sleepy Sex, Sort Of, Walking In On Someone, joys of parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: The absolute worst thing in the universe isn't the Dark Side, it's accidentally walking in on your parents getting frisky.(Ezra doesn't get coerced into anything or mindwarped or whatever, it's plain old MOM!! DAD!! EW!! Accidental Comedy)All smut is from adult POV, specifically Hera, involving only the relevant consenting adults.





	1. Chapter 1

Well this is unusual. It's rare enough that she wakes up before him, (even more rare in the last few years, apparently his new Responsibilities have turned him into some kind of  _ Morning Person)  _ but she can count on her hands the number of times he's slept on his back.

Probably has something to do with the solid elbow to the solar plexus Sabine landed on him, or the kick in the gut from Ezra. Or their combined effort to take him down that had involved a flying tackle from Ezra and a flashbang explosive Sabine was  _ not supposed to bring to practice _ . 

 

_ (“No, you said ‘no  _ **_bombs,’_ ** _ not ‘no explosives!’” _

_ “You know what I meant.”) _

 

Apparently being a Jedi Master  _ and _ substitute Mandalorian… whatever they called their weaponmasters… was absolutely exhausting. He hasn't even moved since she's woken up, sat up to look at him, sprawled out in her bed with his hair half undone. She's always been surprised that he didn't snore, with his nose broken so many times.

_ So  _ tired. He doesn't even twitch when she brushes a bit of hair out of his face, runs her fingers along his jaw. 

 

Well,  _ part  _ of him does.  _ Long, hot and easy to turn on  _ indeed. 

 

There's an opportunity here. After so many years he's apparently gotten used to being touched  _ (“Pet. You pet me.”)  _ while he's sleeping, that it doesn't wake him. He feels  _ safe _ enough, here, in her bed, to really relax, to sleep soundly, barely stirring at all when she runs her hand down his chest, through the soft hair. It never really grew in right, where his scars are. The one in his shoulder, just below his collarbone, is actually a bare spot, the skin softer and almost shiny. 

… alright maybe she is petting him.  

But he's  _ soft _ , and he's warm, and maybe she gets the slightest possible buzz off touching him that probably doesn't even have anything to do with biochemistry, just affection. 

 

There's more scars, little ones, ordinary ones, on his knuckles and forearms and elsewhere. The blasterburn on his hip is shiny too, when she pushes the blankets down. He stirs a bit at that, stomach flexing, fingers twitching, but settles back when she shushes him quietly, strokes her hand up and down his stomach.

… and farther down, under the covers, to wrap her fingers around warm, slowly thickening length of his cock. He stirs again, with a soft, shaky sigh, shifting a bit more this time. He's starting to wake up, and she'll have to work quickly and carefully to make sure he wakes up the way she wants him to. There's not much of the blankets left covering him, little enough that she can push it aside without him seeming to notice when she leans down sideways and scatters light little kisses across his hips. Something about that pulls him farther out of his slumber with a slow toss of his head and a soft groan--until a lek falls over her shoulder onto his stomach and he relaxes again, almost immediately, his hand settling lightly on the curve of her lek, rubbing his thumb absently over it.

That's sweet enough she can almost taste it, even through the salt of his skin when she slowly, delicately licks a stripe along the underside of his shaft, root to tip, letting her tongue flick lightly over his slit. His cock twitches  _ hard  _ at that, thickening and lengthening further under the softness of her lips and tongue.

_ Goddess _ he's so lovely, especially like this… so obviously wanting her. Another circle of her fingers around the base of his cock, carefully lifting him to her lips for a slow, sucking kiss. 

 

And another.

And another.

 

Just lavishing the fat head of his cock with kisses as he shifts and shivers under her hands and mouth.

And wakens with an uncharacteristically loud, shuddering gasp when she slowly, so slowly draws him deeply into her mouth, down her throat.

 

She will never,  _ ever  _ get tired of that absolutely incredulous, stunned look in his beautiful blue-green eyes, of  _ causing  _ it. Making him think  _ how the hell is this my life?! _ in a good way. 

 

“G’mornin,” he slurrs sleepily, grinds the heel of his free hand into his eye, and continues petting her lek. “Wha’do t’earn this?”

 

She draws off him slowly, deliberately making a loud  _ pop  _ noise of her lips on his skin. 

 

“Maybe I just want you to have a good morning,” she purrs, her voice gone a bit raw and raspy already.

“Fair’nuff,” he says and lets his head fall back so he can ask the ceiling or the stars or the Force or whatever, “What’d I do to earn this?”

“I can think of a lot of things. A very long…  _ list _ ...” she murmurs between more kisses, with a sly sideways smile on that last bit for emphasis. “So how about you just lay back and enjoy it?”

“Could do that,” he says, and reaches down to run his hand down her spine, taps her tailbone twice with a smile. “Could see about giving you a good morning too.” 

 

This is why she loves him. Well, one of the reasons. It's definitely high on  _ that _ list.

A bit of maneuvering gets her up on her knees, thighs around his shoulders so he can wrap his arms around her hips, get his hands on her ass to spread her open. He starts slow, leaving kisses and the rasp of his goatee on the insides of her thighs as he works his way up and she works her way back down, letting a lek curl around his upraised thigh as she works her tongue down his--

 

**_thud thud thudTHUD THUDTHUDTHUD_ **

 

“The  _ hell?! _ ” she yelps, sitting up and sitting down on Kanan's chest hard enough to make him cough.

_ “Knock it the hell off! _ ” from outside, accompanied by another  **_thud_ ** of a fist against the door.

_ “Ezra?!”  _ What in? Did he? Had they? They weren't being that loud, how could--?!

“Oh  _ fuck _ no,” Kanan groans. 

_ “I get it, Hera’s wonderful and amazing and you love her  _ so fucking much _ but it's not even breakfast time and I don't need to wake up to this crap and--hey! Put me down!” _

_ “Kid, go take a walk, _ ” from Zeb, an equally sleepy growl.

_ “It's  _ snowing  _ outside.” _

_ “Call it a cold shower.” _

_ “If  _ anyone  _ needs a cold shower it's  _ Kanan,  _ not--whoa!” _

“Y’know, I never cock-blocked  _ my  _ Master!” Kanan yells at the top of his damned lungs, and slaps a hand over his face before grumbling, “I was afraid this would happen.”

“Care to clue  _ me  _ in?” she drawls, and clambers off his chest to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

Kanan sighs. “You might have noticed Ezra's getting pretty good at the whole--”

 

He twiddles his fingers.

 

“--thing. He's good with connecting with others’ minds, emotions, the works.”

“Scary good. What of it?”

“Other Force users are the easiest to connect with.”

Oh no.

“Sometimes you can pick up thoughts and emotions accidentally.”

Oh  _ no. _

“So he…?”

“Yep.”

_ “Ew. _ Poor kid, that's--ugh! No one needs to catch their parents-- _ ew!”  _

“Yeah. Normally I block him out, y’know, but…”

“Oh Goddess, we owe that kid  _ so many  _ pancakes, we're  _ horrible.”  _

“I'm sure he'll get over it.”

“Still--!”

“Yeah.”

 

Mood’s kinda ruined now, but before she finds pants and Ezra and apologizes--

“You never had this problem?”

“Nah, mostly because I'm about as empathetically sensitive as a brick compared to Ezra. I'm good at objects, not senients,” he explains, scratching idly at his chest. “I didn't even know she was banging S- _ Styles  _ and Grey until I connected the dots between the ah,  _ turbulence  _ the Ghost gets sometimes and how often it seemed to happen during their  _ private strategy meetings.” _

He sits up and kisses the side of her head. “Let me talk to him first. I'll let him get the rest of the righteously indignant yelling out of his system, you get started on those pancakes?”

 

Oh the joys of parenting.

  
  



	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to ramble about Mando culture for a while, with the assistance of fandumbandflummery

An undoubtedly  _ supremely  _ awkward conversation later, Kanan returns with Ezra, and she's pouring pancake batter into a large squeeze bottle so Sabine can properly draw and sculpt her signature pancake-art. Lothcat faces today.

 

(“Uh-oh, what’d you do?”

“You didn't hear Ezra banging on my door this morning?”

“Hera, I can sleep through an autocannon firing, it's a point of pride for us.”

“Fair enough.”)

 

Ezra looks… well, still justifiably annoyed but mostly placated, and a good bit of the annoyance is smoothed away by stealing Kanan's caf before she can hand it to him, and then the uj’ayl jar from Sabine. Once he's dumped in enough of the sticky red glop that the spoon nearly stands up in the _Naboo's Okayest Dad_ mug, he’s looking the kind of annoyed that only portends amusing retaliatory pranks, not borderline malicious.

He probably doesn't want her to say anything, that will only dig up the awkwardness again, so instead she just hands over a plate of cats and fried roba belly and eggs and fruit. And she doesn't say anything when he immediately rolls the extras into one of the pancakes and shoves the entire thing into his mouth like an animal, because that's  _ why  _ he likes pancakes. Easy to eat on the run. Even if it's disgusting. 

 

“Y'know, you have to be more careful about interrupting people like that,” Sabine remarks idly around a strip of roba while her latest cat cooks, (A calico this time, so it has to be done in layers for the spots get the appropriate variation of browns) and blithely, deliberately oblivious to her terrified, desperate glare. Zeb, predictably, looks intrigued, because Lasat apparently  _ live  _ on secondhand embarrassment as a cultural artform, and carefully puts his own caf mug down in anticipation. “You're gonna get Hera knocked up.”

 

Kanan was not so prepared, and chokes, spluttering violently enough that he ends up cringing and holding the bridge of his nose, hot caf streaming down his face. “He's  _ what?!” _

Ezra, predictably, _horribly_ , looks delighted as he hands off a napkin. Possibly because he's genuinely interested about the culture, or looking for more opportunities to mortify Kanan, or maybe just to hear Sabine talk. “Oh really? How do you figure?”

Sabine flips her pancake and cuts her off before she can explain that it's basically statistically impossible and--

 

“Mandalorian tradition,” she says, and stuffs the last of her roba in her mouth, talking with her mouth full. Speaking of  _ animals _ . “You want brave, strong babies who won't be scared by battlefield noise or, y’know, more realistically, won't wake up crying during target practice and demolitions testing, so it's best to start them early.”

 

The pancake gets tossed across the room at Ezra, who catches it out of the air.

 

“So what does banging someone's door down and waking the entire ship have to do with anything?” Zeb asks, pointedly ignoring Kanan glaring through his hands.

“Wedding night, obviously. Earliest start possible.”

“It's a bit late for a wedding ritual,” she offers weakly, and gets her a glare from Kanan too, which is  _ stupid _ , because it's not like she's going to tell them how he proposed. She's never been drunk enough to tell her  _ adoptive children  _ about that. Even if it  _ was  _ hilarious.

“Well yeah but it's kinda an all-around thing,” Sabine says, and starts a new pancake. They took forever but it made her happy, so they were all mostly willing to wait while she ticks reasons off her fingers with one hand and doodles tabby stripes with the other. “Weddings, anniversaries, folks who can't make their own babies bringing their surrogate or donor to the party, encouragement for a couple to make babies at all…”

Okay, now  _ she's  _ interested. “So instead of your parents harassing you for grandkids they just, what, bang on your door at two o’clock in the morning?” Her father had  _ words  _ for her grandmother demanding babies, before and after she was born.

Sabine rolls her eyes.  _ “No,  _ that's ridiculous.”

“This  _ conversation _ is ridiculous,” Kanan grumbles. He's pacified with more roba. It's all in good fun, anyway. No  _ way  _ was she risking having a  _ child _ in the middle of a Rebellion.

“Your  _ friends _ bang on the door or make a howling racket outside the tent, your  _ family _ sets off the firecrackers at a safe distance.”

 

Oh, of course. 

 

“Firecrackers.”

Sabine nods. “And blasterfire. The bigger, brighter and more colorful racket, the better. That's why--”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes growing sad and distant. Oh, no. She had a younger brother she had adored and was  _ incredibly _ proud of... she had probably  _ helped  _ with those explosives. Maybe her family had attributed her contribution to why Tristan was “built like a freighter even though Wrens are almost always small and scrappy.”

 

“--why you make a point of turning your music down and not practicing  _ your  _ demolitions when Kanan and I want a little alone time?” she offers, giving Sabine an out.

“Can't be too careful!” Sabine chirps, smiling gratefully. “I know  _ I  _ don't want to have to deal with a little green nubtails running around and getting into my paints.” 

“Or the explosives,” Zeb adds.

“Or the lightsabers,” is Ezra’s contribution, snickering as Kanan buries his head in his arms.

_ “Enough,  _ alright, you  _ win _ , damn it,” Kanan groans, and throws a grape at Ezra. “Congratulations, you'll get a break, you’ve  _ all _ put me off sex for a while out of  _ paranoia _ , I hope you're happy.”

 

Ezra catches the grape in his mouth and grins as he chews. “Yep.”

 


End file.
